The Journey is the Reward
by rianess
Summary: NWN2 OC Fic. It is said that the journey is the reward. Join the PC Suna Steel and her seemingly simple task of taking a shard of silver to her Uncle Duncan. Laugh and cry with her as she learns about life, love, friends and joy. Romance, but with who?
1. Chapter One 'Prologue'

**Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights belongs to Obsidian and all other associated companies. No copyright infringement is intended**

* * *

**Chapter One - Prologue**

* * *

Life is a journey, some say.

Well her life had sure started her on one weird journey. If you had asked our heroine, namely one Suna Steel, a mere four weeks ago, that she would be stumbling around in a dirty mausoleum in some god forsaken graveyard, cutting her way through skeletons and zombies to try and find some lost patrol from a fort she'd never even heard of... well. She would most likely have laughed in your face, and then, while you were distracted, quickly sent for the priests of Ilmater to care for you during your distressing madness.

And yet, here she was. In the aforementioned graveyard, hacking her way through the aforementioned undead. If there was one thing in this life that really made Suna want to heave up her last meal, it was the undead. It disturbed her on every level, physically, mentally, spiritually, you name it. The people who did this to the dead were the worst kind of evil, in her opinion, and deserved to be burned to ash, never to rise again.

What was even more disturbing was this particular Necromancer, if that was what he truly was, seemed to have an agenda. He had been questioning Commander Tann, lately of Fort Locke, on troop numbers, defences and the like. That was extremely worrying, for it meant that he was planning some kind of assault on the Fort. Of course, it was possible he was just your average, run of the mill psycho, out to kill as many as possible. Sadly, in this case, she didn't think so. If he'd had only wholesale slaughter and destruction in mind, he would have picked an easier target. Those who used others to gain power were usually lazy, and so, didn't try anything that might prove too challenging.

Fort Locke represented Neverwinter's power in the area. To attack For Locke was to bring Neverwinter and Lord Nasher's attention on you. And one didn't do that, unless one had allies, or friends, or unless one was part of a _network._ That meant others like him. In a word, that meant _trouble_.

It seemed to Suna that ever since she stepped outside her quiet swamp village that trouble was all there was to find in the world. When she was younger, and lost herself in any and every book she could find, she imagined the world to be full of wonderful things and people, and places to see. She wanted to go out and find out all there was to know about the world and those who lived in it. But when she did finally get her chance, having been sent on an errand which had sounded simple in the telling, all she found was trouble, blood and more trouble.

That's not to say there hadn't been high points – there had. Khelgar, whom she'd met outside the Weeping Willow, was a stand up guy. Even if he only stood as high as her waist, he was always ready to help or offer support. She couldn't ask for a more loyal, steadfast and frankly, rib-crackingly funny friend.

Then there was Neeshka, whom she'd met just before Fort Locke. She had barely known the woman twenty four hours, but had already decided she liked her. Given that Suna was a cleric by trade, her connection to her goddess allowed her to gain insights to people. Brother Merring, who was the local priest in her swamp village – called West Harbor –, told her that some scholars called the talent 'aura-reading'. Suna was not entirely convinced that this was an accurate description, a theory of which she was even more certain of since meeting Neeshka.

Neeshka was born a tiefling, abandoned by her parents at the Temple of Helm in Neverwinter. Her infernal heritage should have given her an aura of wrongness, yet, when Suna concentrated on her, all she could sense was mischief and kindness. While it was true that Neeshka did have her dark side, it was one born of necessity rather than actual malevolence. The girl was simply a survivor, like most orphans. Especially one who lived in a big city. Having your innocence and faith in the world stripped away so young did that to people. But Neeshka had a heart of gold; Suna could tell that from her first glance of the tiefling. And frankly, as far as Suna was concerned, that was all she needed to know.

* * *

When the Commander had been rescued and the bandits in the area taken care of, finally, all Suna really wanted to do was sleep for a week. Sadly, she did have a pressing engagement in Neverwinter with her Uncle Duncan, though the man himself did not know of it, and so she had to get to Highcliff as soon as possible to board the _Double Eagle. _They did spend one last night at the Fort, during which Neeshka and Khelgar sat side by side on a log by the fire, each trying to out drink and out boast the other one. Suna herself tried not to drink very much, not out of morality of principles, but because she'd had a bad fever as a child, which had left her liver vulnerable.

Thus, as her two companions were quickly approaching the 'passed out in a heap' stage, she was comfortably merry, and speaking with Marshal Cormick.

Cormick was a Harborman himself, and though he was a few years older than her, they'd grown up in the same group of friends.

Before he had left West Harbor for Neverwinter, he'd won the Harvest Cup, and that night, there had been a big party, with wine and dancing, and a huge bonfire. Standing in the warmth of that bonfire, with people laughing and running all around them, Cormick had given Suna her first kiss.

"Do you remember that night, when you won the Harvest Cup?" She asked him now. Cormick needed no other explanation to understand what she was referring to.

"Yes, I do." He laughed, though there was no mockery in his tone. "I was so nervous; I nearly bit your lip!" And she laughed too. There was a chill at their backs and he pulled her closer wrapping his cloak around both of them.

"You know, back then, I thought you would come back from Neverwinter, having made yourself just as famous there as you are in West Harbour, and we would marry, have lots of children, and live happily ever after." She paused. "It's nice to know, with all the strangeness in my life lately, that I was once a normal girl, with normal wishes." She glanced up at Cormick with a twinkle in her eye. "And with a crush on a dashing young hero!"

Cormick chuckled with her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I was completely besotted with you in those days. Wandering around, giving you calf-eyed looks. I'm glad we both grew out of it. Don't get me wrong, I think you're even more beautiful now than you were then. But we're too different. There's something about you, Suna. Maybe it's your connection to Selûne**,** or something like that. I just know, you weren't meant for me, nor am I meant for you." He replied, without regret, just acceptance.

"I know. I much prefer us as friends. But you gave me my first kiss, Cormick and it was magical. What more can a girl ask for?" She rested her head on her shoulder. "When you're back in Neverwinter, if you need a loyal blade, you can find me at the Sunken Flagon, OK?"

"OK." He agreed, and was glad to have finally made peace with her. What happened between them, despite how brief it was, had always made him wonder. Now, everything was settled, and frankly, he was glad to have his friend back.

* * *

Surprisingly, her Uncle Duncan was exactly how Suna had pictured him to be. There had been something in the way Daeghun had spoken of him, some hidden disapproval, that made her think that Duncan would be the exact opposite of him. And while the difference wasn't _exact_, it was damn near enough.

In the early days, when her reading of people was not something she could control, Suna had read Daeghun, she couldn't help herself. And he had been filled with pain. Pain that, unfortunately, intensified when he looked upon her. With this discovery emerged the reason for his aloofness, for his undemonstrative way of treating her. After coaxing the story out of the long standing denizens of West Harbor, she had found out the reason why. Daeghun's wife, Shayla, had been killed some years ago, trying to protect Suna. So that was that.

Suna wasn't bitter though. She had begun her devotion to Selûne, The Lady of the Moon, very early on in life. The moon comforted her in a way neither her foster father, nor Retta Starling, her milk-mother, never could. Sitting in the light of the moon, especially when it was full, fulfilled that nebulous need in her heart. She had devoured every text she could find on her goddess, to the point where anyone leaving the village on a journey always knew to stop at merchants stalls and shops on their travels and ask if they had any works on Selûne.

Since those early days, her faith had never wavered, never faltered. Such was her devotion, that she slowly discovered new gifts. Gifts which could only have come from Selûne. For one thing, she could shape shift into the form of a Greater Werewolf, yet no evil filled her heart when she transformed. Her eyes had changed colour from an ordinary green to the silver of her goddess'. The reading of people's emotions, or aura's she was sure came from Selûne.

When she had first entered the Sunken Flagon, the wolf in her had sensed another close by. This had turned out to be the animal companion of a ranger who frequented the tavern. She and the wolf greeted each other silently, and while the wolf's companion appeared to be too deep in his cups to notice, something told her he had not missed single thing.

After spending a night recouping in the room Duncan had provided her with, Suna had set out to the Watch's headquarters, to speak with Cormick. When she, Khelgar, Neeshka, and their newest companion, Elanee, had arrived, they found Cormick and one Lieutenant Roe in a heated argument.

Elanee had joined them when they were on their way to Highcliff, and Suna really did not know what to make of her. The druidess had admitted to following and observing Suna for much of her life, and while she thought she should find that rather creepy, she didn't. In an odd way, it was comforting. She was usually left to her own devices, and while she knew Selûne had been watching over her, she didn't think anyone earthbound had been.

Truthfully, though Suna was an accomplished healer, her talents had been taking a more battle focussed turn lately. That was not surprising, considering her life had felt like one long, drawn out fight since she'd left home. So, it was good to have another healer around. Elanee had been very helpful, cutting days off their trip to Highcliff and helping them roust more undead from the surrounding areas.

Suna's worst fears had been realised at Highcliff when another of those disturbing Necromancers had turned up, using the dead for the gods knew what purpose. The conversation they had partially overheard, with someone the priest had referred to as Garius, served only to worry her even more. It was clear that whoever these vile priests were, they were part of something much, much bigger. And that meant Trouble.

* * *

Given the intensity of the argument between Cormick and the other man, Suna actually felt like they were intruding, and after standing and watching for a few minutes, she signalled to her companions and turned to leave. Cormick had hailed her though, and in short order, she was signed up with the City Watch.

Daeghun had taught her that one rarely gets anything for free, that most people won't help you out of the kindness of their hearts, and in most situations, a deal is always possible. Suna found that this held true for her time with the City Watch. She wanted into Blacklake, which had been cut off from the rest of the city due to some troubling murders, in order to consult with Aldanon the Sage over the silver shards. Well fine, the Watch needed help clearing up the Docks and keeping the peace in Neverwinter. A straightforward exchange of services, nothing sinister about it. In fact, in some ways, it was rather refreshing. Cormick and Captain Brelaina made no secret of the fact that they needed her help and such help would be the price to get what she wanted.

The direct approach did have its own appeal. So, she had patrolled the docks, intercepted a shipment of weapons intended for the local thieves guild and in the process of rescuing the Watch's pet snitch, managed to off the woman behind it all – Moire.

Now, Brelaina was sending her and her cohorts outside the city walls, to a place in the mountains called Old Owl Well. There, they were to investigate the seeming disappearance of an emissary from Waterdeep.

Sitting on her windowsill and looking out over the city of Neverwinter, and further out, over the water at her beloved moon, Suna couldn't help feeling a tingle of anticipation. _Something_ was waiting for her at Old Owl Well. And for some reason she could not dismiss the feeling that her life was about to change out of all recognition, utterly, completely.

Again.


	2. Chapter Two 'Hunter's Lullaby'

**Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights and Neverwinter Nights 2 belong to Obsidian, Atari, Wizards of the Coat and all other associated companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**Chapter Two – Hunter's Lullaby**

* * *

"He's a paladin." The rest of what Neeshka said passed over Suna's head. She already knew what this man was, she could tell, just by looking at him. Her power to read people was growing stronger, she, was growing stronger, and in some ways, she was beginning to scare herself.

They'd been in the mountains for weeks, having arrived at Old Owl Well to find Commander Callum of the Neverwinter Nine – Nasher's devoted bodyguards – trying to organise his rabble of Greycloaks to fortify and defend the well. The scout he'd sent after the Waterdeep emissary, whom Callum revealed was named Issani, reported that the soldiers escorting Issani had been killed, but there was no sign of neither the emissary himself nor his body.

So, Callum had sent them after the orc tribes, to try and locate Issani. He'd also asked them to keep an eye out for, 'whoever it is that's been distracting the orcs'. Standing here now, on this plateau, and looking at the holy warrior a short distance away, Suna was fairly sure she'd found him.

"...my men and I have been hunting this group of orcs for days." Suna finally pushed aside her distraction and listened to the conversation which had been going on around her.

It was obvious that these people knew the area much better than she did. Aside from anything else, she'd never been to this part of the world before. For all that Khelgar had visited these parts in the past, he didn't know the way either. So, when he offered to lead them to Logram Eyegouger's lair, the next on their list as Issani's possible location, Suna knew she'd be a fool to say no. Neeshka, on the other hand, was all for leaving the paladin behind.

"Neeshka, forgive me. I don't want to force you near someone who discomforts you, but he can help us find this orc leader's lair, and the sooner we do that, the sooner we can leave these mountains, alright?"

"Alright, fine." Replied Neeshka, rubbing her arms to emphasise the point that being near Casavir made her skin itch. Apparently, it was reaction to his aura, caused by the fiend's blood in her. With this in mind, Suna made sure neither had to sit, march nor sleep near the other. That was really all she could do.

They'd had a bit of a wobbly moment when Casavir's sergeant, Katriona, insisted that she accompany them to the Eyegouger's Clan. Suna would not have minded the extra help, but she _would_ have minded the potential conflict. She was not one to just dish out orders, but she _was _the leader of this haphazard bunch. And the way that Katriona looked at her...well. She could not see her deferring to Suna's judgement without a fight, and when fighting orcs, dissension in one's own ranks only leads to death and destruction. She'd paid enough attention to her lessons over the years to at least understand that.

She needn't have worried though, as Casavir evidently thought that a smaller group would have a greater chance of reaching the Eyegougers' lair intact, and had ordered Katriona to alert the Greycloaks of their attempt, and the possible ramifications of failure. All this made sense of course, but there was something _else _there too. Something passed between Casavir and Katriona, and though Suna did not claim to be a mind reader or anything of the sort, it seemed to her as though this woman was offering something which Casavir had refused in the past and was plainly refusing now. And it certainly wasn't an offer of military support.

Suna chalked it up as one of those things, noteworthy but not important, and so, with Katriona taken care of for the moment, the group and their newest plus one made their way to slay some more orcs.

* * *

"I think I'm going to be sick." Suna put one hand over her mouth and one on her stomach, simultaneously dropping her spear.

The room was filled with bodies.

Men, women and even orcs were strewn across wooden pallets. They looked as if they'd just been thrown there. And the stench of the undead was filling the air.

Logram Eyegouger was no more. The same for Yaisog Bonegnasher. They'd been to the Bonegnasher's lair before they'd met Casavir. Suna and her friends had brought Yaisog, the chief of the Bonegnasher tribe, down very quickly and he'd pleaded for his life. Unable to kill anything when it was on its knees in front of her, not even and orc, Suna had spared him, only for him to go straight to Logram and warn him she was coming.

Suna did not regret sparing him, even though this time, she killed him. After all, it was she who had to live with herself when everything was said and done. And still, both Yaisog and Logram lay dead, both their armies defeated. When they had descended to the lowest level of this den however, they had not expected to find this...burial chamber, if that's what it was.

Looking upon these things which were once people, and smelling the necromantic magic in the air was what made Suna want to bring up her hasty meal of trail rations. Grobnar, a gnomish bard they'd met on the way to Old Owl Well, approached her with a worried frown. There wasn't much he could do, however, but she appreciated that he wanted to help.

Grobnar was a decidedly odd duck. He had a habit on remarking on anything which came to mind, and sadly, an awful lot came to his mind. Suna found it quite endearing though, and the little guy had seemed so excited to come with them when she'd offered, that she couldn't help but feel it was the right thing to do. With the addition of Grobnar and now Casavir into their band, she could see how some might think they were a troupe of performers or something of that kind. A human, a dwarf, an elf, a tiefling, a gnome and another human. They were a representative bunch, if nothing else. In a way though, Suna was quite glad that they were all different, since it gave her a chance to learn about their cultures, from someone who really knew it, and not from some dusty book which was probably written by someone who'd never left home.

* * *

"These...I knew these men and women, I served with them..." Casavir's voice reflected the shock and repugnance that all of them were feeling. Suna could feel her goddess crying with outrage at the way these people had been treated. The paladin, who served Tyr, was probably feeling much the same. Looking at the faces of her companions, she could plainly see that every one of them was greatly disturbed.

"These people deserve funeral rites." She observed and could sense the gratitude and approval from Casavir before he even spoke of it.

As they made their way further into the network of caves, Suna's senses became increasingly jarred by the complete _wrongness_ of this place. She knew without a doubt that they had discovered the hideaway of another of those vile necromancers.

"Someone is using the dead for experimentation!" Casavir declared, horrified.

When the necromancer finally showed himself, Suna felt icy fury overtake her. She raised her hands, stretching them out towards the so-called priest, almost as if she wanted to throttle him. Sparks began to fly between her fingers, and yet she knew she had incanted no spell or divine calling. The priest, seeing the light flicker between the tips of her fingers, took a step back, as if afraid. He summoned his undead minions to protect him, and then the battle was truly joined.

* * *

The priest fell, as Suna declared all his kind must, and they were free to proceed ahead and find Issani.

"Neeshka, chances are, they have him locked up. I doubt we'll find a key, but I also doubt any lock can stand against your nimble fingers. You, Khelgar, Elanee and Grobnar go on ahead and find him." She turned to look at the paladin. "Casavir and I must go and lay those people to rest, OK?"

Neeshka hesitated, but then nodded firmly. "OK. We'll find him, and then have a hunt round and see if there's an easier way out of here." She then motioned to the others, and scampered off.

Suna smiled, shaking her head, and then took a deep breath, letting it out in a big sigh.

"Come then, Casavir of Tyr. Let's give your comrades what peace we can." She declared, and led the way back to the cavern where they found the bodies.

* * *

Callum was of course grateful when they returned to Old Owl Well, Issani in tow, and thanks to Elanee, looking an awful lot more healthy than he did when Neeshka and the others found him.

It was fairly obvious from the way Callum's eyes narrowed when he spotted Casavir that the two of them had met before. Suna might even go out on a limb and say they'd been friends at one time. All this was explained however, and though there seemed to have been some harsh words exchanged in the past, it appeared that was now all forgotten.

Katriona had made it in time to warn the Greycloaks, and also was persuaded to stay and help them for a time. Casavir recommended her as a good sergeant, but since Suna had no men for whom she needed a sergeant, there wasn't much point in trying to employ her now. Given that she knew the area so well, she would be of most use to Callum and his Greycloaks, and who knew? She might even be able to whip that rag-tag rabble into shape – stranger things have happened, or so Suna had been told.

* * *

Not wanting to give Captain Brelaina a chance to send them off on yet another mission before they'd even had a chance to sit down; Suna led her friends straight to the Docks District and Duncan's tavern the minute they arrived back in Neverwinter. Her reasons were not wholly selfless – she had been fantasising about a nice, warm bath for the last twenty miles. Mountains were pretty and all, but Suna was beginning to smell like last week's turnips.

She didn't dare try and wash in a freezing mountain stream; for all that the old wives back in West Harbour claimed it gave you vigour. She could just see herself slipping on a rock and then being swept away to the goddess knows where, and with no clothes on!

Duncan, it appeared, could either read minds, or just knew what women were like – perhaps both – for he took her pack from her and directed her to the baths without even a blink, the minute she walked in the door.

"Some new faces I see." He remarked when she returned, feeling much better.

"Yes, well, the short one is Grobnar. He gave us directions to Old Owl Well, and while he can be a bit... enthusiastic, his heart's in the right place. Oh, and he's a bard." Suna explained, and could have sworn she heard a snort from the corner where the wolf and his human-companion were sitting.

"Don't worry about it, Suna. I told you that your companions were welcome here. Maybe I can get him to play a tune for us or something." He waved her apology away before she'd even spoken it.

"It's getting him to shut up that's the real trick." Grumbled Khelgar, who had his face half covered by an ale mug. Suna and Duncan were not at all sure if the dwarf had meant to be overheard or not, though they both realised that Khelgar probably didn't care either way.

"The other is Casavir, of Tyr. He's a paladin, as if you couldn't tell, what with the aura and all. And he helped us find the missing Waterdeep emissary, Issani. He was really helpful and so when he asked if he could come back with us, I thought why not? Can't hurt to have another warrior on our side, especially one who's trustworthy." Duncan nodded, agreeing. For his part, he felt much better that his niece now had a holy warrior at her side. Not only would his power help keep her safe, but he knew the man would defend her honour as well, if it was necessary. It was a paladin's way.

"Well lass, it's getting late. Would you want to be heading for bed, or will you go and report in?" He asked and she sighed.

"Oh, I would truly love to get to my bed and sleep for a week. But I have this niggling feeling that I should go and see the Captain. You know sometimes, I wish I had stayed in the village. Married me some farmer and had me a simple life. Kids, raising pigs – all that." Suna said, sighing despondently again.

"Ha! As if! You wouldn't last a minute in that life my girl, and you know it!" Duncan declared, his loud exclamation causing a few patrons to turn and look at them. Suna grinned, picked up her tankard and down it in one go.

"I really must try not to be so predictable in future, must be old age. Tell me _Uncle_ Duncan, you must know from experience – how does one cope in one's dotage?" She replied with an innocent look which was ruined by the smirk trying to break out on her face.

"Away, fishwife, and see your commander. Honestly, kids these days! Dotage, why I..." He was cut off by an affectionate peck on the cheek from Suna, before she hot footed it out the door. Elanee was not far behind, and interestingly neither was the paladin.

* * *

"The only thing worse than Luskans –"

"– is bloody Githyanki!"

This came from the tiefling and the dwarf, as they staggered in through the door and slumped at the nearest table. They were both very pale, with blood spatters on them, and Karnwyr, his companion, could smell the blood of the Astral Plane on them, so it was highly likely that they did actually have a run in with the Gith.

"You know, I think that's debatable. On the one hand, the Gith are pretty damn ugly, no denying it. Why, they must run clear outta paper bags during their mating season. Then again, maybe green, toothy, bumpy and spotty is a turn on to them. Anyway, I really think I should sit down as the blood loss is making me sound like Grobnar." This witty repartee came from the leader of the motley bunch who'd showed up at the Sunken Flagon a few months ago.

She was alright looking, damned pretty actually, and if you could see past the fact that she was Duncan Farlong's niece, then she wasn't too irritating to be around either. But there was something... off about her.

The first day she walked in here, she looked straight at Karnwyr, and something passed between them that he couldn't make out. Nor could he get even a hint from his companion about it. His senses were telling him that she was different, but all the evidence he'd managed to gather so far, and it was a lot – Duncan had a habit of prattling on about her – suggested that she was completely human.

Yet she and Karnwyr had some kind of kinship. It was a puzzle and he bloody hated puzzles. Puzzles and puzzling women could get you killed, or worse, _married_.

* * *

"Oh, we met a Lord Darmon, did I say it right, in the Merchant Quarter, and _ouch_!" She winced as Casavir tried to ease the bandage away from the wound on her head.

"Sorry my lady, but it seems the gauze has begun to stick to your wound, and I must remove it in order to heal it." He apologised, and seemed pretty upset about hurting her.

"It's alright Casavir, I understand. Just as long as you can put up with me whinging, I'm such a weakling when it comes to pain." She laughed, "Amie used to say," Here her voice wavered and she swallowed a lump which suddenly appeared in her throat. She went on, her voice soft and distant, all traces of mirth gone. "Amie used to say that Daeghun should buy me some plate boots to wear, since a stubbed toe would down me for weeks." She coughed and tried to get up. "Excuse me, I need to –"

"My lady, I am not finished, please stay seated." Casavir chided her gently and Suna sat down again.

"I guess I should learn some more healing spells, or invest in some more potions. It seems silly to..."

She was rambling, and everyone knew it.

"Who's Amie?" Duncan asked quietly. Suna's head shot up, and it was lucky that Casavir had finally finished or she would have got another whack on the head by hitting his hand.

"Oh, she is," Suna swallowed, "she _was_, my best friend, growing up. She, Bevil, and the goddess were all I had. Especially after he left." She coughed again. "She – the Githyanki murdered her. Just burned her to a crisp without even blinking. Then laughed, and left. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't help her, I –" Duncan stopped her before she could work herself into hysterics by putting a hand on her shoulder and then pulling her in for a hug. She resisted for a moment, before subsiding.

From his usual spot in the corner, Bishop was glad to be spared the histrionics. At one time, he might have empathised. Hells, maybe even a little now. But there was one thing he _could _and _would_ respect about this woman, and that was the plain fact that the Gith had invaded her home, and she had not surrendered. Neither had the rest of her town. They had stood their ground, and they had fought, and while some had died, they had driven the Gith off in the end. There was strength in that, and if Duncan's niece had any sense in that pretty little head of hers, she would realise that.

* * *

When Suna had finally calmed down, Duncan tried to get her to explain what she had meant to in the first place.

"Now lass, you mentioned Lord Darmon? One of the Nine? You say you met him earlier?" He prompted and Suna gave him a quirky smile.

"Yes, a bit strange actually, it was. We met him before Old Owl Well. Has he been in?"

"No," Duncan replied, "Not yet. Though I did notice more soldiers than normal. Your doing, that?"

"I'm afraid so. Remember that warehouse we emptied out, where the weapons were being shipped, well, when we finally got outside, he was there, and –"

"Are you Miss Farlong?" A small boy, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, asked.

"Not Miss Farlong, though I can understand why you'd make that mistake. My name's Suna, and this is my Uncle Duncan Farlong, if that helps." She explained to him, as he seemed a trifle nervous.

"Oh, sorry. I was told to ask for a Miss Suna Farlong. What's your name then, if it ain't the same as his?" The boy asked, with all the natural curiosity and carelessness that only a child can have.

"Steel, Suna Steel. It was my father's name. Duncan here is the half brother of the man who raised me – Daeghun Farlong. But we're not really blood relations. They were both friends of my mother, who died giving birth to me." She explained. With her attention on the child, she did not notice Duncan wince and look a bit ashamed when she mentioned her mother. Others did however, and filed the information away, after all, it might be useful in the future.

"Wow! Your family is a mess o'people, ain't it?" The kid replied, and then gasped, wondering if he had gone too far. Suna laughed though, and ruffled his hair.

"Sure is. Wouldn't have it any other way though. Now, we've established that I'm the one you were looking for, what is it I can help you with?" She asked, reminding the boy that he'd originally had a purpose in coming here.

"Right, well, I got a message for you. Right important it is, from Lord Darmon. Only 'is man what usually does his fetchin' and carryin' is down with the pox. Cook says that'll learn him for messing with those docks doxies." Suna was fairly certain that this was information that neither Lord Darmon, nor his poorly messenger particularly wanted spreading about. In fact, she wasn't really sure that she had needed to know in the first place, and the glint in this child's eye seemed to say that the little rotter knew all of that too.

"Very well. Hand it over then." She said, thinking it was probably a good idea to get the little scallywag on his way now.

"Here you go miss. I'm supposed to wait in case you want to reply. Can I get an ale while I wait?" He asked, overdoing the wide-eyed and innocent bit just a tad.

"No you cannot lad; you'll have milk in the kitchen while my niece reads her letter." The boy started grumbling, but Duncan shushed him and called for Qara. Qara being an upper class, out of control, hormonal teenager, who just happened to be a sorceress. An incendiary combination, in more ways than one. She'd set fire to the Flagon and then started a fight outside, causing even more damage than a pack of sailors on their first night of shore leave. Therefore, Duncan had dragooned her into service until she could pay back the cost of repairs.

She wasn't the most pleasant person to have around, and despite her claims of being a carefree, independent woman, she had great difficulty in coping with life away from Daddy and his millions. Duncan kept trying to foist her off on Suna, and Suna dodged for all she was worth. Getting blown up because Precious Princess Qara broke a nail was not her idea of a good time. She wasn't sure that it was anyone's idea of a good time, apart from Princess Precious herself that is.

So, the kid taken care of, and most of her companions scattered around the inn in various states of inebriation coupled with the effects of sleep deprivation and outright exhaustion, Suna settled by the fire to read her letter.

* * *

_"My dear Lady Lieutenant of the City Watch, (or do you just prefer 'Suna'?),_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health, and I mean that sincerely. Rumour has it that you have been a busy little bee since you arrived in Neverwinter, foiling the plans of local criminals, rescuing emissaries and routing evil Luskan plots. Really my dear, I do not know how you find enough hours in the day, truly, I do not."_

Suna laughed quietly to herself, not really noticing anyone else around her, and not caring if they heard. She could almost hear Sir Darmon's smooth and cultured voice in her head as she read the words he had written.

_"Please do not think that I am making light of your efforts, I, as well of the rest of Neverwinter, am grateful for the work you have done here. Especially since you are not a native of this area, and one might argue that you owe the city no allegiance._

_I trust you recall our meeting in the Merchant Quarter? Imagine my surprise when my men returned from their evening's entertainment at the Sunken Flagon, only to inform me that the 'Suna' we had met earlier that evening was the proprietor's niece, and, that she had already left on another mission. My dear, do you ever stop, even if just to catch your breath?"_

Suna laughed again, and couldn't keep the smile off her face. She settled herself more comfortably in her chair, pulling another closer and putting her feet up on it.

_"I feel it is most unkind of you to have denied me your company after you so graciously arranged for my men and I to have the night off. I believe it is only fair that you make this right, and correct this injustice, by dining with me, tomorrow evening. Unfortunately I reside in the Blacklake District, and I do not believe Captain Brelaina would make an exception, even for such an important matter. However, The Moonstone Mask has an excellent menu and is most comfortably appointed._

_Please, do send your answer with the young lad who brought this letter to you. Though he's a little rogue in the making, one can't help liking him. He has a way about him, I'm sure you've noticed. So, I leave you here, eagerly waiting your assent,_

_ Your Servant,_

_ Sir Darmon, of the Nine_

* * *

Suna refolded the note and then pressed it to her chin. Could she? Would she?

_Should _she?


	3. Chapter Three 'Obviously Five Believers'

**Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights and Neverwinter Nights 2 belong to Obsidian, Atari, Wizards of the Coat and all other associated companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**Chapter Two – Obviously Five Believers**

* * *

"My dear, I am _so _glad you could join me here."

"As am I, my lord." Suna gave him a genuine smile, since she _was_ pleased to be there. Life had become somewhat... monotonous since she had left home. True, there had been battles a plenty. And then plenty of healing after said battles. But that seemed to be about it. No fun, no dancing. Barely even any laughter, apart from the odd exchange with Duncan.

"Please, don't. It's just Darmon to you. Believe me; one gets sick of titles after a while." He frowned and shook his head. Suna laughed.

"I will have to take your word for that, having never experienced it for myself. Then again, Casavir, the paladin who joined us at Old Owl Well, insists on calling me, 'my lady' much of the time. To tell you the truth, I do not think I have ever even heard him use my name." She rolled her eyes theatrically and Darmon chuckled.

"Yes, I had heard he was travelling with you now. Don't look so surprised! My dear Suna, you are the most exciting thing which has happened in Neverwinter for some time. Ever since the war and the plague, all the talk has been of rebuilding, of sacrifices for the greater good. People have been discussing such matters _ad nauseum. _But for a bright young girl from the Mere to march into our city and rise to Watch Lieutenant, simultaneously cleaning up the docks in a few short weeks, well!"

"Ah, so I'm the talk of the court am I? How flattering." She noticed a flicker of something she couldn't identify pass across the knight's face and correctly guessed what it meant. "So the talk isn't all flattering is it? Do some of the idle wealthy and noble find me," she paused and the raised her eyebrows, "_uppity_?" She couldn't contain her scorn for the pampered rich who infested Lord Nasher's court. She felt safe in expressing this openly since Sir Darmon's words outside the warehouse made her think that he was of much the same mind.

"I do not believe that was the word they used, but it was something rather similar, I fear. But let's not dwell on that. Suna, you are like a breath of fresh air into what was becoming a staid and dull life." He said a not quite convincing sigh.

"Oh really." Suna replied, feeling a zing of attraction pass between them when Darmon edged closer and smoothed a lock of her hair away from her eyes. His fingers were warm, and gentle. She could almost feel the heat radiating from his body as the skin of his hand grazed her temple.

"Yes, really. I have never met anyone quite like you, and while I am sure you believe that this is empty flattery intended to seduce you into some dalliance – don't. It's not. It is entirely truthful flattery intended to seduce you into a dalliance, or three." He paused, eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "Is it working?"

Suna hesitated. She needed a moment or two to deliberate, as it were.

While she was no stranger to what occurred between man and woman, having grown up in a farming village made it nearly impossible not to be, she had not enjoyed lying with a man. Her first time had been, uncomfortable to say the least. In fact, she could say it was downright dismal and she'd found herself wondering what all the fuss was about.

Because of this and a variety of other reasons, she had steered clear of any such entanglements every since. However, time was a great healer, or so she had heard. And after all, her beloved goddess taught her that to mate was natural and urges to mate were normal. Just lately, those feelings and desires had begun to... resurface.

Suna hadn't been interested in any of the potential mates available in West Harbour, and to be honest, she'd not many that enticing since she'd entered Neverwinter, either. But Darmon was different. He was handsome and charming, and likely had the knowledge to make the experience enjoyable, and not the traumatic episode it had been, before with... Suna shook herself, lest she begin down a path she _really_ did not want to tread. Yes, she firmly decided. Darmon would be an adequate mate.

"It is." She replied calmly. Darmon smiled, he seemingly hadn't noticed, or possibly had not minded her distraction. His smile faded, his expression suddenly intense, and then he wiped all other thoughts from her head with a kiss that made her toes curl.

Definitely a _very _adequatemate.

* * *

Though she had endeavoured to arrive back at the Flagon at a decent hour, Darmon proved more skilful than she had imagined and so distracted her most thoroughly. They had parted as friends outside the Mask, with no intentions of repeating the encounter, or of anything more serious. They weren't in love, but had enjoyed each other's company and neither saw any reason why it should be more than that.

When she arrived back at her Uncle's tavern in the wee hours of the morning, the place was dark. Luckily, she had cajoled a key from Duncan some weeks back, when it had been likely she would return from missions at odd hours and wanted to avoid waking everyone up.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Suna tiptoed into the common room, and gently closed the door. Leaning back against it, she allowed herself a satisfied smile. Though it had hurt the first time, Darmon had known how to soothe her hurt, and how to make it better the second time. She was overwhelmed by the sensations at first, and had tried to bring her rational mind back, only to realise that that was the point. She gave up on thinking and just allowed herself to feel. Her passion had only served to feed Darmon's and when they were finished he remarked that Ophala was wise to have invested in soundproofing when she had refurbished the Mask.

Suna was glad that she had taken the chance. If here only memories of mating were those from her past, well. She may have gone her whole life without ever knowing just how _good_ it could be. And what a _crime _that would have been. She pressed her hands against her lips to prevent a giggle of delight from escaping. After all her care to keep quiet, it would be a shame to wake everyone now.

Bringing herself back into the present, Suna took a few tentative steps further into the room, and stopped as she noticed yellow eyes glinting in what little remained of the firelight. The fire was banked with only the barest glow showing.

It took her a moment to realise that it was the wolf, and that there was no sign of his human companion in sight. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to get to know the wolf better, Suna opened up that part of her mind where her own wolf dwelled.

They didn't speak mind to mind, for that was only possible through a companion bond. Rather, wolves communicated through movement and expression.

This wolf was a survivor, and so was its companion, he told her. They'd had hard times, but had pulled through. Suna relayed that she thought that this was something to respect in them. She professed her admiration, and a sense of kinship. She promised to watch his back and he promised the same to her.

"His name is Karnwyr, and trust me, staring at him is not going to do you any good." The harsh voice of the wolf's, _Karnwyr's_ as she now knew, human companion intruded on their exchange and it took Suna a second or two to begin thinking like a human again so as to understand his words.

"Ah, well ask him to forgive me then, I meant no offence." She replied, amused, but not showing it. Or so she thought.

"I don't know what you think is funny, but I would run off to bed now like a good little girl, if I were you. Your Uncle Duncan isn't going to be pleased you stayed out so late. And with a knight of the realm, no less."

Clearly, the man had been eavesdropping on their, that is, Duncan and her group's conversations. Though one could hardly blame him – none of them had gone to any particular effort to keep their discussions private. Talking openly in the common room invited listeners to, well, _listen_.

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. What he will understand though, is that it is my life to lead, and mine alone. Where I go, and whom I go with are no one's business but my own, just as how long I spend with them is too. Given the evening I just had, I think I shall be waking tomorrow with a smile firmly in place, and what more can an uncle ask for from his niece, hmm?" Suna replied, though there was no venom in her statements, she was still deadly serious.

She had walked over to the man's table while she was speaking and taken the seat opposite him. Raising her eyebrows at the open wine bottle near him, which she had seen him drink out of, she waited for his shrug before she lifted it.

She opened her mind to the wolf once again, and sniffed the bottle cautiously. Detecting nothing wrong with its smell, she also ran a Detect Poison on it and waited for the negative result before drinking. She saw something akin to approval in the man's eyes as she drank and frowned at him curiously.

"You're being very cautious. I don't usually go in for that, but on this occasion you're right not to believe me harmless. Most people who come in here don't even give me a second glance." He drawled and she laughed.

"How anyone could think you harmless when you are the companion of a wolf is beyond me. For your wolf, for Karnwyr, I mean, to have accepted you there must have been a kinship, a meeting of minds or the bond would never have formed. Not only that, your bond is strong, I can tell. Therefore, you could be compared to a wolf. And anyone who thinks they have tamed a wolf is frankly, extremely stupid, and most likely, will soon be dead." Suna punctuated her minor monologue with a long swig from the bottle. She jumped a little when his hand closed around hers, pulling the bottle closer to him.

Despite having thoroughly spent her ardour in the arms of Sir Darmon, or at least having believed she had, she felt it stir slightly at his touch. She was shocked by this, and not completely sure why she was shocked. After all, he was handsome in his own way. Not silver tongued, like her knightly lover, but he had something about him which made him... interesting.

He leaned forward, at the same time, raising the bottle to his lips; he took a long drink and then smiled dangerously.

"_My lady_, I'll drink to that."

While the words 'my lady' from Casavir made her think of boring courts and even more boring nobles, it wasn't the same from this man.

"What may I call you?" She asked, her hand still held prisoner by his.

"Well now, _there's _a question. Or is it your polite way of asking my name?"

Suna shrugged. "It's not always wise to give someone your true name, though I could hardly avoid it with Duncan spouting it off to all and sundry. I just thought I would be open about the fact that I would like to call you something other than 'Karnwyr's human companion'."

He smiled, clearly this woman was nothing like her uncle, which wasn't all that strange since he'd heard her tell some kid that they weren't blood related. He surprised himself though, by answering honestly.

"Bishop. The name is Bishop".

* * *

As she had predicted, Suna did wake with a smile on her face the next day. After Bishop had told her his name, they'd finished what little was left in the wine bottle and Suna had sought her bed. She had no idea if he had stayed up or gone to whatever room Duncan had given him. Truly, he must have still been up when she had returned from the Mask, since he had appeared from the shadows during her 'conversation' with Karnwyr.

After she had completed her morning ablutions, taking special care to remove any evidence of how she had spent the night, Suna surveyed herself in a mirror. It was strange, as much as she knew, rationally, that last night would not change her in any noticeable way, she had almost expected to be able to_ see_ a change. But she couldn't, there was nothing to see. Well, other than the marks of passion scattered across her body. A part of her didn't want to heal them, she wanted to keep them as a reminder of her special night.

Dressing quickly she healed the only ones which her clothes could not cover. Then, whistling rather tunelessly, she made her way downstairs to the common room. Last night, Captain Breleina had indicated that she would soon be permitting them access to the Blacklake district. Maybe, today, finally, she would get some answers.

* * *

"Alright, I agreed to let you bring me here, now I want some answers!"

From his vantage point near the door, Bishop noticed Duncan's foster-niece direct a glare, which she then quickly hid, to the back of the shapely blond who'd just spoken. Seemingly intent on ignoring her for the present, Suna crossed the tavern and sat in a chair near the fire. She slumped for a moment, and then leaned forward placing her head in her hands.

She'd looked for a second there, like she wanted to scream. He could hardly blame her. Though the bit of fluff her and her motley bunch had brought back appeared to have a rather fi

ne behind, she also had a rather shrill voice. Not his favourite thing in a woman, that. Still, suppose he were to silence her somehow... nah! Not worth the effort.

During his contemplation, the paladin had decided to step in for his _lady_ and was attempting to calm the shrew. He seemed to be getting somewhere, and Bishop noticed the blond simpering at the fool in his overblown tin pot suit. Just goes to show that farm girls are fools for a _hero_, and paladins can't resist a damsel in distress.

"Humph, idiots!" He muttered to himself. Or not to himself, as he'd thought, since Suna had looked up and in his direction, and seemed rather amused about something. Surely, she couldn't have heard him, right?

He dismissed the thought, and looked over to where Duncan was falling all over himself while trying to impress the shrew. Bishop wished him luck. That type of woman had marriage or nothing written all over her, and despite his appearance of tamed domesticity, Duncan was far from the settle-down-and-raise-a-passel-of-children type.

In time, the common room cleared and he and the niece were left alone. Well, almost alone. Karnwyr was with them of course. In fact, now that he focused on his companion, he noticed that their bond felt slightly closed off. Almost as if the wolf was trying to block him out or hide something from him. It was disturbing, because he'd never done it before. Or at least, if he had, Bishop had never noticed it.

A glance over at the niece made him turn and glare at her. She was doing it again – staring at his wolf. What on earth was she trying to achieve, other than being bitten?

A second later she laughed slightly got up, gave him a salute, and then sashayed out of the common room as if she had not a care in the world.

This woman was just too puzzling for words! Giving it up as a bad job, Bishop nodded to Karnwyr and headed for his bed. He couldn't decide whether to curse the day that _the niece_ wandered into the Sunken Flagon, or not. Sometimes he felt as if he should give thanks to her for at least alleviating his boredom for a while. His imposed inhabitance of the run down inn had begun to seriously tell on him, and he alternately ached and burned for the freedom he thought he'd never have.

Well, it was no use thinking of what ifs and all that. That was for silly maidens or those who'd lost the will to fight. Tomorrow was another day. Who knew? Maybe thigs would change.

Maybe.


	4. Chapter Four 'Sympathy For the Devil'

**Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights and Neverwinter Nights 2 belong to Obsidian, Atari, Wizards of the Coat and all other associated companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**A/N: This chapter deviates further from the OC plotline. But not in essentials I believe. Also, this chapter contains an homage to 'Make a Wish' by Rorschach's Blot.**

* * *

**Chapter Four - Sympathy for the Devil**

* * *

While most of the inn slept, Suna was having a crisis of sorts.

She was extremely unhappy with the direction her life seemed to be heading in, lately. She felt as if she was being forced into a role which wasn't hers. A hero's life was not one she wanted. She did not want to live in this city, and run around solving other people's problems. But that was what she felt like she was doing.

She'd only agreed to bring the shard to Duncan because it was Daeghun who asked her to. If anyone else had asked, she'd have said no. But for the sacrifices Daeghun had made in bringing her up, when he clearly would rather had lost himself in the wilderness, well, Suna felt like she could do him this one favour, just to say thanks. Sure, there was the added benefit of satisfying her curiosity about the attack on her home, and the shard her foster father had entrusted her with. But really, given everything that had happened to her _since_ that attack, she felt as though she could have remained ignorant, and been perfectly content.

Perhaps it was the wolf in her, perhaps it was just her own personality, but Suna could not bear the idea of being confined. Of being _tamed_. She fairly _loathed_ it. And to be frank, when she'd offered her sword to Cormick, back at Fort Locke, she really hadn't thought through the consequences of her offer. That's not to say she couldn't have refused to join the Watch, because she could have.

'_Should have...'_ she thought to herself. When Duncan and Sand told her that her choices were the Watch or Moire, they weren't being entirely accurate. Suna could have just as easily said, 'No thanks', and tossed the shard on the bar, and then left. She chided herself being the fool and letting herself fall in with other people's ideas.

Suna was a good person. She didn't need anyone else to tell her that, but at the same time, she was not a crusader, not a paladin, nor any of those other people who dedicate their lives to causes. Causes such as, 'defending the weak and helpless'. Her beloved goddess did not encourage so-called civilisation, she was, well, she was different. And Suna never felt a call from or to anyone else, only Selûne held sway in her heart, her soul.

The truth was that Suna was something different. She was not one of the Swords of the Lady, though she could fight as well as any warrior. Neither was she one of the Oracles of the Moon, though she could divine the fundamental character of the people she met. One could argue that Suna fit in best with the Pact of the New Moon – those lycanthropes sworn to Selûne. She had the same abilities they did – control over her were-shape, being able to shift rapidly and at will, and, if she chose to, she could speak, cast spells and invoke prayers – all in wolf form. And yet still, she was something _more_.

She had never met a fellow devotee of her Lady of the Moon. She had, however, met one devoted to Selûne's sister, _Shar_. Shar, evil twin sister of Selûne, who presides over caverns, dark, dungeons, forgetfulness, loss, night, secrets, and the Underdark. Shar's priesthood were naturally not welcome everywhere, and some time ago, one had stumbled into their village, beaten to within an inch of his life, presumably by the inhabitants of another Mere village. He never said, and no one, as far as Suna knew, had ever asked.

When he had first arrived, she was sent for to heal him, since Brother Merring had not yet made West Harbour his home, and their previous priest had died of a winter fever. Unfortunately, the moment she entered the room he began screaming, exclaiming that she was 'too bright' and the sight of her 'burnt his eyes'. Luckily for him, Retta Starling had some healing magic, nothing on the order of Suna's but enough to get him to a point where he could heal himself the rest of the way.

He had disappeared one night, under the cover of Shar's darkness, and no one in the village had ever heard of him again.

The man's words had circulated around the village folk fairly quickly, as was usual for West Harbour, but though many speculated on what it could mean, no conclusions were ever drawn, and no certain knowledge could be divined.

To this day, Suna was not sure what her presence had done to that man. Obviously, a priestess of Selûne and a priest of Shar would be natural enemies – both orders deliberately worked against each other, trying to thwart the plans of their rivals. Yet, the man had practically screamed himself hoarse, and only stopped when she had left the house he was being kept in.

The truth was, that though she appeared human, Suna didn't really know for sure if she actually was. There was much mystery surrounding her parentage, in fact she had only found out her mother's name a short while ago, and it had been _Duncan_ who told her. Duncan, and not Daeghun.

Suna sighed and rubbed her neck, trying to ease the stiffness. Would the truth of who she was, _what _he was, be like this business with the shard? Would she be better off _not _knowing?

"Alarm! Alarm! Everyone get out of bed and grab a weapon! The Flagon is under attack!" Duncan's panicked voice rang through the halls and Suna cursed. This place was going to drive her bloody mad!

* * *

"That lass Shandra has been taken?"

Privately, Suna was yet again cursing the day she ever met Shandra Jerro. She was proving to be a menace already. Suna felt bad for thinking that. Truth be told, the farmer hadn't asked to be involved in any of this, but then again, neither had she! Doubtless others would disagree, but frankly Suna didn't care right now.

"How did those Githyanki get into the city?" Duncan, Suna felt, was focusing on the wrong problem.

"Does that matter? You had better hurry if you want to get her back. Look this one has a sprig of Duskwood in his boot. That means they came from deep within Luskan territory, and that's where they'd be returning to." Bishop had bent down to pull something from one of the dead Gith. Clearly, the man knew his trade – talk about eagle eyes!

"Luskan? That's your territory, Bishop."

Suna did some quick mental calculations. She had not spent hardly any of her share of their gold. Neeshka, she knew, had, but then the girl always did have a weakness for shiny things, Grobnar too. Khelgar as well, had spent a fair portion of his, both on ale and new gear. Suna hadn't needed knew gear, since Cormick had handed her a decent set of armour not long after their arrival here. Elanee had given a chunk of hers away to charity... as had Casavir, but Suna, well; she had little need for _things_. The only expensive place she had visited was the Mask, and Darmon had picked up the bill there...

If Bishop was good, then she wanted him. If Suna had to chase after Shandra, and it seemed like she would have to, even if only to get those blasted Gith off her tail once and for all, then she wanted the best. Left to herself, she'd likely be picked up by a Luskan patrol within moments of entering their territory. She would be able to avoid them as a werewolf, but really wasn't ready to share her form with the rest of the group. Some of them could be... judgemental at times, and she really didn't need the headache that discussion could bring. It wasn't like they would let her go alone, either... no, she needed Bishop, and she could pay.

"Forget it, I'm not –"

"Two thousand gold. A thousand now and a thousand when we get back." Suna cut him off and Bishop turned to her in surprise.

"Really Suna, there's no need –" Duncan began, but Suna wasn't going to back down on this.

"Yes there is a need, Duncan. It seems as though we're going to have to rescue Shandra, again. Well, I know for a fact that if any of us try and go into Luskan territory without an experienced tracker, we'll be dead or _worse_ not long after. None of us, despite what we may think, has the skills to evade their patrols, and to follow the Gith's trail. Bishop does. That means we need Bishop," Duncan looked as though he was going to interrupt her again, so she raised her voice and ploughed on, "I do not expect him to take us there for free, and it's likely to be a dangerous mission. Therefore," she turned to face Bishop fully, "I'm offering two thousand gold, half now, half when we get back. Plus, an equal share of whatever loot we find on the way. Do we have a deal, ranger?" She offered her hand and waited, her expression neutral.

For his part, Bishop was not a little bit shocked. He had a fairly good idea what Duncan was about to do, but _the niece_ had stopped him before he was able. She was not expecting him to follow her like one of her lapdogs either, and she was offering to pay him in good, honest gold. And, a substantial amount of gold, too. He would be a fool to pass up such a lucrative deal, since even if she and the rest of her band didn't make it back to the Flagon alive, he'd still be a thousand gold up. Just where was she getting that money anyway?

"But Suna, that's practically all your share so far..." The tiefling's voice trailed off as she saw her leader shrug. Ah, so _that's_ where she was getting the money from. Well, more fool her then. Let her throw her money away if she wanted to.

"If you want the best, you have to pay for it." She said, and Bishop wanted to smile, in spite of himself. He couldn't help that he had an ego which liked to be stroked, though _the niece_ seemed to be sincere in her flattery. Interesting.

He shook her hand. "Alright. Everyone pack your bags and be ready in an hour, we're heading for the Luskan border..."

"You heard the man. Bishop knows what he's doing and he knows where we're going. For this trip, he's in charge, understand?!" Suna exclaimed. Various noises of agreement followed, and Bishop did allow himself to smile. Perhaps he would enjoy this journey after all.

* * *

"Bishop!" Suna called, as she walked towards her room. He was a ways down the corridor and turned with a blank face. "Come to my room a moment?" She requested and he raised a sardonic brow.

"Well, well, what makes you think we've got time for that?" He asked and she laughed.

"Definitely not enough time, some things shouldn't be rushed, after all." She countered, before turning and leading the way to her bedroom. Duncan had given her once of the nicer rooms at the inn, Bishop noticed, probably because he claimed her as family. Her room was larger than his, and the furnishings look newer. The rugs on his floor were looking decidedly threadbare. It didn't matter to him though, it could all be Calimshan silks or Rashemi furs and he wouldn't care. A prison was a prison no matter how luxurious it was, and that was what Duncan had made the Sunken Flagon into, for him.

While he had been ruminating on his unfortunate and unwanted association with her self-declared uncle, Suna had been wresting something from her pack. The clink of coins drew his attention.

"Here," she handed him a heavy coin pouch, "a thousand gold, please count it." She declared and he gave her a cynical smile.

"No need, I know how much a thousand weighs." Suna made no comment; only inclined her head.

"I'm not bringing the rest with me, so you won't be able to take it from my corpse should I die," she paused, "but if you're crafty enough you should be able to retrieve it from here before Duncan finds out." She smirked and then turned to finish packing.

He tossed the bag of coins from hand to hand a couple of times, before giving a brief laugh.

"Very well. Pack light, _my lady_." He said the latter mockingly, and Suna sighed before shaking a fist at him, though he could tell she didn't mean it seriously.

As he left her room, he caught sight of the paladin in the hallway. The man looked startled for a moment, and then scowled. From the look on his face, he knew exactly whose room Bishop had just left. Interesting. Had the paladin added stalker to his long list of titles? Hah!

* * *

As their journey went on, Bishop found himself surprised by _the niece_ and angered by the paladin, in equal measures. The man seemed to think he had some kind of claim on her, and not only did he think it his right to 'defend' her, but he also seemed to think he had a right to tell her what to do.

It seemed that not a moment could pass when he didn't have _something_ he had to criticise her for. Casavir couldn't seem to understand that not everyone in this world thought the way he did. He seemed to believe that his way was the only way, and strongly disapproved if things were not done the way he thought they should be.

Bishop could tell that it annoyed Suna immensely, and he could not understand why she didn't tell the man to stick where the sun didn't shine. He could see that she wanted to, many, many times. Particularly after the stuffed shirt tried to speak for her at Ember.

He had been impressed at her accurate assessment of the situation, and had been about to say so before the paladin just had to interrupt them, again. Seriously, what was the guy's problem? Suna seemed to appreciate that Bishop had a sense of humour, however dark it might be, and the paladin had no right to – Bishop sighed. Just thinking about that guy made him want to hit something. Preferably, the man himself. But then who knew? Paladins were an odd bunch, maybe he went in for that sort of thing.

They were camping in the woods before attempting the steep hill up to what he guessed, or more or less surmised, was the Gith's base. He and Karnwyr might be able to make it in the dark and perhaps the tiefling would too, but it was pointless to try it when they were already tired, since their arriving there tired would not do them any favours. There had been an initial worry, voiced by his paladiness, that the trail they'd been following might go cold while they stopped, but it was quickly shot down by Bishop's knowledge of their surroundings. The area they were in was pretty much wilderness, and the only caves and suchlike in the area for miles were up that hill. Ergo, that was where the Gith had gone, and so he had no worries they would lose them if they camped for a few hours.

At the moment, he was walking the perimeter of their little camp, ostensibly to check for any signs of danger, but actually, he was looking for Suna. He couldn't resist trying to dig a little deeper into her character; he was a sucker for a puzzle. And though he told himself to stay away from her, citing to himself, the acknowledged dangers of intriguing women, he couldn't help it. Hells take him; he _wanted_ to talk to her, to know her. And more fool him too.

* * *

Casavir, for all his noble intentions, could be a right pain in the backside when he wanted to be! Suna had taken the first opportunity to escape him when his back was turned. He had the best of intentions, she was sure, but she also found herself offended by his presumption that she was not capable of, well, anything, it seemed.

Sure, she hadn't asked for this life and was not experienced at travelling or 'adventuring'. But, she was a fast learner, and Daeghun had taught her nothing if not to look after herself. Also, Casavir appeared to be under the impression that she could not think for herself, or, that if left to herself, she would always make the _wrong_ choice.

Perhaps she was being a little hard on him, after all, she was no mind reader, and so couldn't tell what he was thinking, but, after a long, tiring day surrounded by that aura of his – which fairly reeked of self-righteousness, her nerves were wearing just a bit thin.

When they had first met, she thought they would likely have a lot in common, and thus, would get on fairly harmoniously. And it was true, they were both devoted to their own gods, were good people at heart and such, but the ethos of their respective deities tended to clash. Her goddess for example, was what could be described as 'chaotic'. She did not believe in the laws of man, though she was on the side of good. Casavir though, followed Tyr. Tyr, who believed in law and order, justice and the like. It could make his followers sanctimonious at times – they preached that their way was the only way.

It made travelling with a Tyrian very trying at times.

The night before they left, after she had paid Bishop, Casavir had stomped into her room and began to remonstrate her for what, in his opinion, was a poor choice of scout. The man would double cross them the first chance he got, he said, the man was evil, he claimed, the man could not be trusted, he was a mercenary – his only loyalty was to himself and to gold.

'_Exactly, Casavir. And that's why I hired him. Loyalty to gold never wavers, whereas loyalty to a god or a King can change direction as easily as a feather on the wind_.'

He did not approve of her cynicism, though she didn't quite agree that she was being cynical, she called it being realistic.

'_But can't you see that it is wrong, to be only interested in money?!? If he is to come, let it be because he wishes to help, to do the _right_ thing!_'

_'The _right _thing? By whose definition? Because I think by Bishop's definition he _is _doing the right thing. Look Casavir, not everyone believes as you do, and frankly, nor should they. I have a job needs doing. Bishop has the skills to complete that job. Therefore, I hired him to do the job. It really is as simple as that. Now if you don't mind, I have to finish packing so that we may leave on schedule._'

And left he had, but not without giving her a look which was probably meant to make her feel guilty for disappointing him so.

Suna sighed, and held her head in her hands. Just thinking about that argument now gave her a headache.

"Mummy's Brew?" Bishop said from behind her, making her jump. She turned and saw he was offering a hip flask with a lopsided smirk.

"How can he be so –"

"Paladin-ish?" Bishop offered and Suna chuckled.

"Is that even a word? But yeah, that's what I meant. If he carries on with this any longer I think I may have to strangle him in his sleep." She took a deep lug of the flask he'd given her, surprising him when she didn't choke, or even change colour. Though, having said that, her cheeks were taking on a cute pink tinge, which went nicely with her hair... again he cursed himself twenty times over for being such a fool for this woman. Of all women! Duncan's niece! He put that thought right out of his mind, and picked a subject at random.

"So, how are you enjoying the hero trade? Pays well, it seems like." He ventured and she scowled. Oh dear. Clearly a touchy subject.

"In all honesty, I bloody hate it. I wish I'd never heard of that thrice damned shard! I'm not saying I would have been happy staying in the Mere – I wouldn't have, but that doesn't mean traipsing round the countryside on errands for nobles is my idea of a good time."

"Don't hold back now, little girl, tell me what you really think!" He mocked and she shook her fist at him again, the same way she had done back in her bedroom at the Flagon.

"Little girl? I might be short, but I bet I'm older than you, _little boy_." She declared, crossing her arms.

"Older than me? Does that really matter? And besides, I kind of doubt it." He shot back, crossing his arms as well.

Karnwyr, who was sitting off to the side, observing all of this, thought that his companion sure had a strange way of courting a mate. But still, humans were like that weren't they? Then again, _that _one, the one his companion was displaying for, was not all human. No, she was more wolf than woman. Seemed as though his human was in for a surprise, or two. He gave what could only be described as a wolfish grin; it wasn't all that surprising though, since he was, in fact, a wolf.

"How old are you then?" Suna demanded.

"How old are you?" Bishop returned.

"I asked you first!"

"So? I asked you second!"

"Why, you –"

And that was as far as Suna could get, because Bishop, at that point, decided he had far better things for those lips and that mouth to be doing.


End file.
